Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) (23 page)

The bell jangled in the door and she looked up
. All breath left her body at once. There, framed in the doorway and smiling broadly at her, was Miss Upshaw. Lady Westfield, she corrected herself, feeling as if she might retch. Emily was next door at the glove makers, and Jane bolted toward the exit, desperate to find her cousin and insist they return home at once.

“Miss Rosemoor,” the beautiful blonde sang out gaily as Jane approached her
. “What a surprise.” 

Jane paused, barely able to find her voice
. She was shocked by the sudden, inexplicable urge to strike the woman. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to breathe. “Yes, isn’t it? I offer my heartiest congratulations on your marriage.”

“You’ve heard, then?”  The dimples in her rosy cheeks deepened
. “Thank you ever so much. Richmond Park is lovely, far exceeding my expectations. Lord Westfield has made me the happiest woman alive. Such a generous man he–” 

“Good day,” Jane cried out, stumbling past the woman and into the street, blinded by hot, bitter tears
. She had to get away, as quickly as possible.

As she reached the glove makers, she paused, stepping back to catch her breath as her heart twisted in bitter agony.

The door opened and Emily stepped out. Her initial smile quickly faded, replaced by a worried frown. ”Jane, dearest, are you unwell? You’re terribly pale.”  Emily reached for her arm. “Come, let’s sit.”  She gestured toward a bench.

Fearing her legs would buckle, Jane shook her head
. She couldn’t sit, couldn’t remain here. She couldn’t risk seeing Hayden’s wife leave the draper’s, her cheeks aglow with a new bride’s happiness. She shook her head. “No, the carriage. Please,” she pleaded.

With pursed lips, Emily nodded her agreement
. “Come, then. We’ll go at once. Here, take my arm.” 

Jane obliged
. Only once they’d reached the sanctuary of the carriage’s shadowy interior did Jane’s tears turn to uncontrollable sobs, racking her body as she dropped her head into her hands.

“Dear Lord, Jane, whatever has happened?” Emily asked, sliding across the seat to Jane’s side and reaching one arm around her heaving shoulders
.

“Miss Up
–Lady Westfield, I mean,” Jane hiccupped. “At the draper’s.” 

Emily’s eyes widened
. “What did she say?” she whispered.

“That...that Hayden has made her the happiest woman alive.”  Jane’s throat ached miserably
.

“No
. Oh, no, Jane. I never thought he’d actually do it. How could he? It’s
you
he loves, the foolish, stubborn man,” Emily whispered.

Jane choked on a sob, her tears renewed
.

“Poor Jane.”  Emily stroked her hair
. “Always so strong. Go ahead and cry. You’ve earned the tears.”

The enormity of it hit her then, with the suffocating weight of bricks
. She’d made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and now it was too late–now he belonged to someone else. The thought took her breath away, the pain almost too exquisite to bear. How could she have been so foolish? Why hadn’t she realized he was worth the risk before it was too late?

She laid her head on Emily’s shoulder and simply gave in to the wretched despair that lanced her heart
. Emily stroked her hair, whispering soft, soothing words, as if she were comforting a hurt child. It was only when the Tollands’ home came into view that Jane at last reined in her anguish and managed to staunch her tears.

“Look, a traveling coach,” Emily said as they turned off the road and into the lane
.

Indeed it was, clattering out of the drive in a puff of dust
. As their own carriage accomplished the drive, Jane’s eyes were drawn to a stack of trunks before the door.

“How very odd.”  Emily shook her head
. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The carriage rolled to a stop and the footman handed the women down as a plump figure appeared on the front stairs with the housekeeper
.

“Mama!” Jane cried, her slippers flying over the pebbled drive
. She flung herself into her mother’s arms, breathing in her warm rosewater scent as her angry tears returned with a vengeance.

“Dearest daughter, whatever is wrong?”  She clasped Jane to her ample bosom
.

“Oh Mama, I’m so happy to see you,” Jane murmured, her voice muffled
. It was true. She’d never in her life been so happy to see her mother’s familiar, comforting face.

“And this must be little Emily, all grown up
. I can barely believe my eyes! Why, you look just like Susan, only more beautiful. Come give your Auntie Eliza a hug.”  She released Jane and reached for Emily, folding the slight woman into her arms.

“Aunt Eliza,” Emily said
. “What a delightful surprise. Welcome to Ashbourne.” 

“Why, thank you, dear
. You must forgive me for arriving unannounced like this. Something in my daughter’s last letter... Well, dear,” she turned toward Jane, “I must confess something in your letter alarmed me, and I set off at once. Now I’m glad I listened to my instincts. I’ll accompany you and Bridgette back to Essex, but first I must spend a couple of days getting reacquainted with dear Emily and meeting my grandniece. I cannot wait to see little Amelia.”  She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

“But I’d planned to depart first thing in the morning.”

“Nonsense. Only a few more days. Indulge your mother, Jane dear.” 

Jane’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the north, where Hayden’s home lay just beyond the wood
. A few more days. Surely she could avoid him that long. After all, he was a newlywed. Her eyes fluttered shut, images of Hayden and his wife tangled together upon his bed flashing across her mind’s eye. Bile rose in her throat and her surroundings began to spin.

“Very well,” she managed to murmur, then slid soundlessly to the ground
.  

Chapter 20

“Jane, Jane...can you hear me?”

Jane’s lids fluttered open at the sound of her name. Her mother’s face swam into focus, looming over her with a worried frown. She clutched a vinaigrette in her hand, waving it rapidly before Jane’s nose. Emily hovered nearby, her face drawn and lips pursed.

“I...what happened?”  Jane sat up in her own bed, feeling dizzy and disoriented
. She pushed away the vinaigrette.  

“You swooned, dearest.”  Her mother ran a cool hand across her brow
. “The footman carried you upstairs.” 

Jane shook her head in disbelief
. She never swooned–
never
. Not once in all her life.  

“You nearly frightened me to death,” Emily chastised, laying a gentle hand on her wrist
.  

Had she really swooned
? It didn’t signify.

“I’ll go and ring for a pot of tea
. Chamomile and bergamot, Jane. Your favorite.” 

Jane merely nodded, sinking back against the pillows with a sigh as Emily hurried from the room
.

Her mother rose and stood at the foot of the bed, studying her intently as she wrung her hands
. She crossed to the door and shut it softly before turning to face her once more. “Are you unwell, Jane?” she inquired, laying the back of her hand across her brow.

“I’m well enough, Mama.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never before seen you so discomposed. It is so unlike you to swoon like that.”

Jane swallowed hard as she laid a hand on her still- churning stomach
. She moved it lower still, to her abdomen, and inhaled sharply.

What had she done
? Little more than a fortnight ago, she’d written Hayden the one word he needed to go through with his marriage to Miss Upshaw–
congratulations
. Their agreed-upon code that her monthly courses had signaled she did not carry his child. She’d written the word with nary a tremble, her script firm and controlled, and directed it to his London townhouse. She had posted it quickly, before she could rethink her decision.

She’d lied
.

All this time, she’d refused to consider the implications, refused to believe it could possibly be true even as her physical symptoms begged her acknowledgment
. She hadn’t even begun to consider what she’d tell her family or, worse yet, what her life would be like as a ruined woman with a bastard child. Just how long would it take till the madness set in, till she could no longer recognize those she loved? Would they send her off to The Orchards to be cared for by Mrs. Carter? Would they lock her away in Bedlam?

The only thing she was certain of was that she could never tell Hayden
.
Never
. To protect him from her own inevitable madness, to protect her babe from a father who refused to love, who could not acknowledge the child, besides.
He deserves to know he has fathered a child
, a part of her mind screamed out. But she ignored it, pushed aside the insistent thought. She simply could not bear it.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek
. She closed her eyes, then opened them, meeting her mother’s questioning gaze at last. She took a deep, fortifying breath before she spoke, her voice no more than a whisper.

“I’m with child.” 

“No,” her mother cried out.

Jane swallowed the painful lump in her throat
. “God help me, it’s true. I don’t know what to do, Mama.”

Her mother’s lower lip began to tremble
. “Oh, Jane.”  She shook her head in disbelief. “No, this cannot be true.”

Jane remained silent as she nodded her assurance
. She watched as her mother visibly strove to compose herself, now clearly convinced of the truth and rallying to find the strength to acknowledge it.

“Well, perhaps it’s not so bad, after all
. There are worse ways to get a reluctant groom to the altar.”  She reached over to pat Jane’s hand. “I will send for Colin. He will ensure that the gentleman in question marries you. Oh, Jane, please tell me he is a gentleman.”  Her voice rose to a wail. She retrieved a handkerchief from her apron and pressed it to her mouth.

“He’s a gentleman,” Jane assured her, her voice flat
. “A peer, in fact. But he cannot marry me.”

“He can, and he will
. Colin will see to it. A pistol will serve as a sufficient prompt, if necessary.”  Her mouth was set in a tight line.

“No, Mama, you don’t understand.”  Jane shook her head, a wave of queasiness washing over her
. “He cannot. He is married to someone else.”

“A married man?” she gasped, her cheeks flushing a deep scarlet
. “No, you cannot tell me this. Not you. Not my Jane.”  In silent horror, Jane watched as her mother succumbed to jagged sobs, her face turned away from her.

“I’m so sorry, Mama,” Jane whispered
. Unable to bear her mother’s disappointment, her despair, she squeezed shut her eyes and focused on the sound of her own irregular breathing until her mother’s wails subsided enough for her to regain her voice, however tremulous.

“I cannot believe it
. I would expect this from someone like Susanna, perhaps, but not you.”  She shook her head vehemently. “Never you. You’re far too sensible to find yourself in such a bind. Dear Lord, I think I’m going to swoon.”  She retrieved the vinaigrette that lay on the table beside Jane’s bed.

“Please don’t swoon.”  Jane’s voice was sharper than she intended
. She reached a hand out to her mother, laying her trembling hand upon the woman’s plump one.

Her mother pulled away at once
. “I will send for Colin. He will have a word or two with this
gentleman
and see what plans he has for supporting you and your child.”

“I will not tell him, Mama.”

“Of course you will. It will not be the first arrangement of its kind, Jane. Nor will it be the last. He’s left you ruined, without the hope of a husband, and he must take responsibility for that. If he’s a gentleman as you say, a peer, he will understand this.”

“No
. You must see–it’s better this way. I love him, Mama, and I will not have him bound to me by duty. I can’t.”  Her voice broke on a sob. “I won’t have his money or his pity as he watches me turn into a raving madwoman.”

“Madwoman
? Whatever do you mean?”

Jane shook her head wildly
. “You cannot pretend that you don’t know. This family malaise, Mama, this madness no one will speak of, that increases after childbirth. I saw Grandmama, with my very own eyes! It was horrible, worse than I ever imagined. It’s why I never married, why I turned down every offer I received. I could not take such a chance.”

“You cannot mean to think you suffer from the same condition as my mother
? As poor Susan did?”

“I do
. I might,” Jane corrected. “I’ve tried my best to hide it all these years, but you’ve suspected as much yourself.”

Her mother shook her head
. “Never.”

“Oh, but you did
. Long ago, I heard you say as much to Papa. I couldn’t have been more than twelve. You were speaking of Grandmama and Aunt Susan, and you said I was just like them.”

“No, Jane
. Not ‘just like
them
.’  Just like
me
. Sensitive, prone to simple melancholy, nothing more. I spent my girlhood, my adolescence, worrying myself sick over my mother and sister, trying my best to reach out to them and feeling nothing but failure when I could not help them. I didn’t want that for you, Jane. You did not need that burden. You’re very maternal, Jane, just like I am. You care deeply for those you love, wanting to ease their pain. Wanting to make everyone around you happy.

“But there are some people who can’t be helped
. It wasn’t just melancholy. It was more than that, much more. Almost dementia. Violent mood swings, from periods of elation to the darkest, deepest melancholy imaginable.” 

She reached a hand out to brush Jane’s burning cheeks with her fingertips
. “You’ve no idea the full extent of it. But it was always clear that neither you nor Susanna were afflicted. No, Jane. You could not have hid it from me, even if you tried.”  Her chin dropped to her bosom, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “This is all my fault. I only meant to shield you from it, to shield you from the burden of worrying over them. Instead, I only gave you false worries.”

Jane could barely breathe as her mother’s words registered in her reeling mind
. She desperately wanted it to be true–that she was not doomed to madness, that she could be a good mother to her child. To Hayden’s child.

“Oh, Mama, I’ve made such a terrible mistake
. What will I do?”

She shook her head
. “I do not know. But we will figure it out, eventually. We haven’t a choice.”

Jane only nodded, unable to speak
.

***

Hayden shrugged in frustration, feeling like a fool. For the second straight day, he had spent the better part of the afternoon roaming the woods between his home and the Tollands’. He’d learned that Jane still remained there, having not yet left for Essex. More than anything, he wanted to storm over there and demand to see her, but he knew he must carefully consider his situation before he did anything rash. Still, he walked the woods knowing that she liked to do so herself. He hadn’t any idea what he’d say to her if they did meet, but he was drawn to the woods nonetheless.

Before, he’d thought a marriage in name only a perfect solution
–a fine idea, and the only logical arrangement for a man like him. But now, after knowing Jane these past months, he knew he would never be satisfied by such a bargain. He wanted her. And his wanting went far beyond lust.

It was more than simply wanting her in his bed, than wanting to taste her skin upon his lips, to join his body with hers
. No, he wanted to possess her–heart, body, and soul. To gaze at her across his table each night, to fall asleep with the scent of her lingering on him, to wake up to her beautiful face. To share his life, his dreams, even his failures with her. Nothing else would suffice.

He loved her
. The thought terrified him–made his palms dampen and his heart race dangerously fast. He knew he put her in peril, loving her as he did. But would simply withholding the declaration of his love protect her? It seemed unlikely. Then what further harm could come from it, his mind urged, from declaring his love, taking her as his bride? Devil take it, her very life was at stake. Yet even as he thought the words, they lost their potency. Perhaps it wasn’t true. Perhaps his circumstances had been nothing more than bad luck, as Emily insisted. He’d never before doubted the curse, not till Jane Rosemoor had come into his heart. Was it only desperate wishful thinking that allowed him to consider other possibilities?

He shook his head and paused, surveying the landscape spread before him
. Even at summer’s end, the woods retained their lush greenness. Evergreens. Sustaining, everlasting. Like his love for Jane, a love that would know no end. He could not push her from his heart if he tried. But what to do? She would not have him. She believed she was cursed herself, doomed to madness if she bore a child. It was ridiculous. She was perhaps the sanest woman he knew. He reached for a small, gray rock and turned it over in his palm. The surface felt rough, yet its weight reassuring. He ran a thumb across the uneven planes, considering his options.

He could declare his love and hope to convince her that she was in no danger of going mad
. Hell, even if she did go mad, he’d love her still. He could hope the odds were in his favor, and that he would at last break his own vile curse. That he could, for once, claim what he desired above all else. Someone to love; someone to love him in return.

Or he could do nothing
. He could spend the rest of his days second-guessing his decision, bereft of love, filled with uncertainty. Away from Jane. He shrugged as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

The latter was insupportable, the coward’s choice
. He could no sooner do nothing as he could grasp the moon in his hands. She might refuse him yet again, yes. Possibly. But the chance that she might not was worth the risk.
She
was worth the risk.

His mind made up, he pulled back his arm and released the stone, sending it flying through the air with a whistle
.

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to go about convincing her
–no easy task when the woman in question was Miss Jane Rosemoor, the most wonderfully maddening, delightfully bullheaded woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t help the grin that slowly spread across his face in anticipation of the challenge that lay before him.

Reaching up to straighten his cravat, he turned back toward Richmond Hall, his step light, his pace brisk
.

He would begin with a letter
.